Going to FUK-uoka

Japanese Garden in Ohori Park

Woke up at four in the morning to have Matt drive me to Incheon Airport. Shuffled between various check-in lines, security, only to have some orange haired, leopard –print legging clad middle-aged Korean ladies cut in front of me at the passport check. Being impatient, they quickly switched lines. I waved at them through border control, while they were stuck behind an old man fumbling for his passport.

Arrived in Fukuoka a bit late, thanks to the plane being delayed, and got stuck behind a group of elderly Korean tourists, identified by their insistence on wearing expensive hiking gear no matter where they go, who couldn’t figure out how to fill out the arrival slips. I race down the stairs to customs, only to be interrogated. Why did I have only one bag? Why am I only staying for three days? He then politely emptied out the contents of my bag, not bothering to search through my official documents, underwear bag, or computer bag (the place people would smuggle if they were to smuggle).  

Hop on the shuttle bus to the domestic terminal and was utterly confused as to why it kept switching driving sides. Lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the subway, I woke to the announcement of “This station, UglyBoy!” spelled “Ohorikoen.” My stop was next. Got off at Tojinmachi, raced around the underground maze to Exit 1, up what felt like one hundred steps, and zipped down the road.

The Korean Embassy was easy enough to find, but the guard wouldn’t let me in without a phone number. I tried several numbers, he finally grudgingly allowed the local hotel number. I still haven’t a clue as to what he was actually wanting. Finally allowed just before the cut-off time, and set to the odious task of filling out the E2 visa form.

After paying and given my receipt, I limp out of the embassy in search of food and plasters for my heels. Gave up looking for food, and ducked into the first shrine I came across. Several people came up and asked if they could take my photo, which I politely declined, as I was unable to get the camera settings adjusted just right. Learned to pray like a Buddhist at Jomanji Temple, which turned out to be a giant sand zen garden. After the short tutorial, I was left to gratefully sink onto the cushion on the floor for a rest.

Hunger finally won over, I continued down the road until I found a café advertising a six dollar lunch set. Dived into the crowded café, where the waitress didn’t moan and groan about having to talk to a foreigner, but actually came over, smiled, and managed to tell me how to order and where to get drinks, even though she didn’t speak any English. It was a painless experience. I ate my strange meal of Japanese meatloaf patty, tempura tofu, plain white rice, and shredded cabbage.

Stopped in a McDonalds for wifi, but had to be satisfied with staring at a “small” Sumo Wrestler eating his four Big Mac meals as he stared at me sipping coffee. I really wanted to take a photo, but I just cannot bring myself to be THAT person… though, I really wanted to be.

Went in search of the hotel, hoping for some wifi there. I wandered around a bit, trying to follow the crappy hotel directions my boss had given me, when I found a tourist desk. She easily directed me to the hotel, and I went up to the lobby. Unfortunately, my boss had neglected to notice that the reservation was unpaid, so I had to pay. My jaw dropping a bit at the price. I was especially enraged when I opened the door to my room.

The room was stuffy, smelled of stale cigarettes, there were burns in the carpets, the walls were yellow, and everything had a thick layer of dirt and grime. Even the pajama shirt they had laid out was looking pretty bad. I returned to the desk to figure out the wifi password to be told the only wifi was in the form of a thumb drive device, which downloaded strange malware onto my computer and prevented most of my aps from opening.

Too sick really to care much, I passed out on the dirty bed to awake in the dark. I decided to go in search of food, finding a McDonalds to relax in. Headed back to the hotel and passed out again.

The next morning I woke early, plastered my feet, and headed to Starbucks. The air was crisp with fall, the shopping centers decorated for Christmas. Surrounded by well-dressed, considerate people and with a belly full of coffee, the negativity of the previous day fled and adventure won over.

Headed to Ugly Boy once again. This time I got out and walked around the castle ruins. The sky was so blue, but a storm was building, so I rushed through the park to the castle, feeling excited. Snapped pictures every so often. Stopped to watch a girl agonizing over her tripod and rush to pose for the photo in a typical Asian style. Climbed to the top of the ruins, meeting a group of Japanese tourists who took my picture and gave me plenty of room to admire the view. Coming down, I climbed over some of the larger rocks, feeling like Indiana Jones in the city.

Finally decided I had spent enough time at the castle and wandered back through the park, waving at the Asian model who was now wearing pink instead of red—where she changed, I have no idea. Walked past the tourist information center and the men in “traditional” soldier outfits only to be nearly run over by a baseball team running its laps.

Head back to another part of town to see the Giant Wooden Buddha (everyone claims to have a giant Buddha). Somehow find it, only to be disappointed about the not being able to take photos, as if that somehow diminishes its splendor. Shoot some photos of the pagoda and move on down an alley of nice apartments and villa-like houses.

Enter into a promising looking temple, where even the grounds’ workers smile and say hello. Follow a kitten up to the grave site, to find two old women feeding kittens. One woman starts speaking to me in perfect English, handing me a kitten. Apparently, she comes every day to feed and pay attention to the cats. Too used to being scammed in other countries, I pet the cat, with one eye on my belongings, and make a quick exit. However, I think they were quite genuine.

Spent the next morning walking around Ohori Park and the Japanese garden, before collecting my passport and visa. Spent the next few hours in McDonalds playing computer games while the rain poured down. The calm of the trip died as soon as I reached the airport and was surrounded by non-Japanese.